


thunder comes a-rolling down

by oxfordRoulette



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Book: Abhorsen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 13:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6959059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxfordRoulette/pseuds/oxfordRoulette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick is a danger-prone Free Magic sorcerer with a broadsword. Lirael has to babysit. The Clayr try to get Lirael laid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic got jossed by Goldenhand! If you're looking for an alternate way Lirael and Nick's relationship develops after the Creature in the Case (and an alternate explanation for Nick's weird powers), read on, my friends.

It was two years since he crossed the wall for the final time, and he still couldn’t make a Charter light.

Lirael pressed her palm into the side of her forehead. She was getting a headache. “Again. Draw it straight. Complete the full line or it will be a different casting.”

Nick thought for a moment, then carefully drew a triangle in the air. As he reached the final point, his hand jerked, and the mark faded into nothing, as though it were the smoke from a candle just snuffed. He sat back in his chair and sighed. 

“If you can ignore all the evidence to the contrary, I swear my fine motor skills aren’t at the level of a toddler. The Charter doesn’t seem to want to play nice with me,” he said. “I could do it with Free Magic. I’ve made cute lights with it before.”

“Are you talking about the time you burst yourself into flames, and then burned down the farmhouse?” she asked, rubbing her temples. “A fireball isn’t cute.”

He grinned. “That was called a joke, Lady Necromancer.”

It was two years, and he still couldn’t make a Charter light. But he could make forest fires. Lirael let her forehead hit the desk.

“Oh come now,” he said. Lirael could hear him getting up from his chair, and hear him wandering over to the bookcases against the wall. “No need for such defeat! I’ll master it eventually, just you wait.”

They were in a study room at the Library, as part of some odd quest Nicholas got the idea in his head to complete. He explained it to her a couple times by now, something about the ‘perceivable nature of the Charter’ and ‘scientific relevance… I think.’ She had been unwillingly volunteered to help by Sabriel, who had shoved Lirael into a Paperwing while furiously winking for some reason.

Lirael snapped her head up at the knock on the door. A younger Clayr stepped inside, and performed a short bow. “My apologies for the delay, Abhorsen-in-Waiting,” she said. “Whoever prepared your guest accommodations was not given clear instructions by the Nine Day Watch. The mistake is now corrected. Would the both of you please follow me?”

Lirael thought it odd that the Nine Day Watch Saw her arrive and didn’t think to prepare rooms for both Nick and herself. The attendant who met them at the Paperwing hanger _very specifically_ mentioned it was only a small group who had Seen them, so Lirael figured they only had a limited View. Although she did find it curious that the attendant was stifling giggles as they relayed the information. 

Lirael traveled to the Glacier on Abhorsen-in-Waiting-related business enough times by now that returning to her old home had stopped being so painful. She could never venture beyond the lobby of the Library, however, since that territory belonged to her and her Dog. It wouldn’t be the same.

Still, she couldn’t keep herself from wringing her hands as she walked down cramped corridors of rock and steam pipes. Nicholas watched her fret.

“I’ve been thinking about my hypothesis,” he said, suddenly. “And I’m doubting that I can even find a valid way to investigate it. Do you think I can relate some aspect of the Charter to Ancelstierrian science? Say, how our nostrils react to engaging with the Charter? Or perhaps what parts of our brain light up when we dive into its warm, absorbent embrace?”

Lirael jolted out of her worrying to give him one of those _looks_. “What? I don’t know.”

“Or, if I cannot possibly explain anything in terms of Ancelstierrian science -as I believe might be the most likely explanation-, then... does my physical state change upon crossing over the wall? At what point? Do I lose all my molecules and atoms and cells and become a being of the Charter? Or a being of Free Magic, in my case.”

‘Free Magic’ made her frown. He kept monologueing.

“As invested in this subject as I can tell you are,” he paused to wink at her, to which he received the largest possible eye roll she could muster. “I do need your help navigating. I figured, if there’s anything that can help me in my noble quest for knowledge, it will probably reside in some undefinable eldritch horror library, yes?”

They turned a corner. “What does ‘eldritch horror’ mean?” asked Lirael.

Nick thought for a moment. Then, carefully, said, “Do you remember that time I burst myself into flames and burnt down the farmhouse?”

They arrived at the room, which the Clayr attendant opened for them. It led into a small study, with one door which presumably-

“Here it is!” the attendant said, with a huge smile on her face. “Have fun! Hope you enjoy your stay!”

As soon as Lirael and Nick were inside the study, the Clayr girl bolted down the hall. Nick poked his head out into the hallway to watch her run.

“Hmm. Weird service.”

“They’re not usually like this,” said Lirael, frowning. 

She set her pack down in the corner. Nicholas opened the singular door to what was presumably the bedrooms. There was a beat of silence, then Nick said, “I say, this is rather improper."

Lirael went to go investigate, sliding up next to him to peek in the room. One, singular room, for one singular bedroom. Lirael covered her mouth with both hands. 

There was only one bed.

It was a large bed, with lots of space for blankets and pillows to shove in-between them, but that didn't make it any less embarrassing. If the Clayr had Seen their arrival and they still got a room with a shared bed...

"I'll ask our hosts for new lodgings, perhaps separate rooms," said Nick, seeing her wide eyes and turning to leave. "I don't believe they'll-"

"No! " Lirael blurted out, grabbing his arm. The Clayr's giggling, one bed, how their arrival was Seen by 'an extremely limited party' specifically, it all led up to some nerve-wracking conclusions and oh Charter, Nick was staring at her. "I m-mean, it's rude to do that. In the Glacier. It's not polite to ask for another room. We can put pillows between us."

Asking for a new room would be unacceptable if the Clayr had Seen them; they had apparently already determined the path she would take and that path was named Terrifying Implications of Intimacy. But if she told Nick that then he might jump to some unwanted conclusions. Which he might be jumping to nonetheless, judging by that open mouth gawk. She let go of his arm. 

He was silent. He had learned not to ask questions when she was nervous. He said, voice laced with suspicion, "Alright."

He returned to the study to set his pack down. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself before following. 

They decided to spend the day in the Library, pulling down catalogs and reading through books and asking the employees whenever they needed something fetched. Before too much time had passed, they had a large stack of hardcovers to dig through on their study table.

Lirael wasn’t entirely sure what she was helping him look for, something about ‘a book that relates to Ancelstierrian science, if there is one,’ so her attention often drifted from her readings. Mostly towards Nick. 

To her horror, he was quite handsome once he had regained some weight and wasn't possessed by an ancient angry creature. When she sat behind him in the Paperwing, she caught herself staring at the taper of his hairline along his neck disconcertingly often. She wanted to... she didn't know what.

In the Library, she focused on his wrists, of all things. When he turned the pages, they were angled and elegant, like he spent time in the mirror practicing the most artful, careless way to read a book. It was beautiful, to her. 

They found no leads that first day. Bedtime, which Lirael was dreading, was surprisingly painless. They said their goodnights, Lirael put a thick barrier of pillows between the two of them, and got a good night’s sleep in a comfy bed. It was a luxury not often afforded to an Abhorsen-in-Waiting.

The second day, she watched the tips of his fingers. He would slide the page down with the pad of his middle finger, then flip with the thumb and forefinger. He did it so softly. She wanted his fingers to-

“Hey, Lirael, are you listening? I think I found something.”

She snapped her head up, and tried not to blush. He had one of the catalogs open in his hands. “Is there a location listed for a book you’re looking for?”

“There certainly is! Supposedly a book about how our eyes recognize the lights of the Charter is stored in one of the passageways off of your fascinating spiral hall. There's a map and everything. Apparently there is a small, mysterious door we have to venture through.”

She bit her lip. She was afraid of this. She didn’t want to journey any further than the main lobby. Not with Nick, anyway. “I can go fetch it for you. It’s very dangerous.”

He made a pouty face. “Come now, Lirael, let’s go get it together. I’ll be plenty safe. I’ve been simply aching to go on an adventure with you.”

“I said no.”

His face relaxed, a serious expression replacing the silly frown he had on. He stood up from the table, then wandered over to the window of their small study. He was silent, and Lirael wondered what he would do.

"I've always been in awe of you," he said, with his back to her. "You have such an indescribable presence. Did you know it took me about a year to talk to you like a normal person? Not sure if you paid attention." He paused to laugh. "Took a wakeup call from Sam to attempt a sane level of conversation with you. I'm glad you... noticed me. As juvenile as that sounds. But I'm weak, I'm naive about this world, I'm nothing compared to you. Why travel with me?"

This was one hell of a tangent. Lirael cocked an eyebrow. "You're my friend, Nick."

He turned to her. "So why me? Someone who is as powerful, intelligent, and beautiful as you could absolutely find better 'friends' to share a bed with."

Lirael wasn't sure how to react to that, so she blurted out what probably sounded like a rather angry, "What?"

"Well, I mean, I, uh," he coughed a few times. "The point is, I'm pathetic, you've helped me so much, and I want to return at least a couple favors. I want to help, or at least learn how to help you. Let me accompany you on this adventure, I would feel enormous amounts of guilt if I had to sit on my rear and twiddle my thumbs while you went off and fetched a possibly dangerous book for me."

She hesitated.

She didn’t want to bring him because he couldn’t cast a simple Charter light. Because he could barely defend himself with a sword. Because he was a loose cannon.

But she mainly didn’t want to bring him because he wasn’t Dog. She feared making new memories of the Library. What if she liked exploring with Nick more than her beloved friend? What if all those good memories of dusty corridors and close calls were overwritten by Nick?

“There will be other loves,” the Disreputable Dog said, years ago. Lirael decided her worries were silly. Nothing could replace Dog, not even other loves.

Her face flushed at the phrase and she let her hair fall forward when she said, “You can come.”

Nick clapped his hands. “Excellent! I’ll get ready!”

She listened to him rustle in his pack for the broadsword that ‘reminded him of the ol’ cricket bat,’ whatever that meant. She tried not to turn any redder.

‘Other loves.’


	2. Chapter 2

The tiny door in-between bookshelves led to an equally tiny corridor, one where the top of the cavern scraped their backs and left flakes of loose rock tumbling down behind them. Lirael lit the way with her Charter light. After a fifteen minute trudge, lanterns began to appear on either side of them, snuffing out Lirael’s small summon.

They lit as the pair walked by: ornate, black, metal things that sparked to life with Charter magic. The passage heightened, no longer requiring them to bend at the waist. The lanterns illuminated murals, of people painted in pretty pastels, dancing with flowers in their arms.

They came to a grand golden door, pristine as the day it was locked away here. Lirael pressed her hand against the smooth lacquer, feeling for anything malicious or dead waiting on the inside. Sensing nothing, she pushed.

It opened into a grand ballroom. The heels of their boots clacked against floors inlaid with gold and marble. Chandeliers sparkled with hundreds of candles. Columns painted with colorful birds supported grand windows that looked out onto a Charter-generated starry night. Some were open, letting in a cool night air breeze that brushed through Lirael’s hair.

There was music. Charter sendings, transparent but for the marks which shifted along their skin, played in a string quartet. A hundred or so other Charter sendings, clad in the fine pastels of the murals in the hallway, danced to the joyous music in pairs. Lirael narrowly dodged a ruffling petticoat as a Charter sending swung by her, barely-there lips parted in laughter.

“Did someone try to archive an entire ballroom?” asked Nick, who was just as awed as Lirael. “I would love to see that entry in the Library catalog. D1-B2: Gargantuan, ornate dance floor with fake immortal people.”

“Hush, Nick. You know the Library isn’t that organized.”

Twin staircases at the end of the room curved up and around to a second floor balcony. Lirael pointed to the big glass door at the top. “Let’s head upstairs.”

“Hold on,” said Nicholas. “It would be rude of us not to take advantage of this fantastic ballroom.”

He bowed to her in a serious manner, which Lirael thought rather silly. He took her hand, maybe a little too quickly, and said, “My Lady Necromancer, care to dance?”

“But we have to find your book, don’t we?” she said. She knew she should pull her hand away, but the way his fingers curled around hers was almost… “And I don’t know how to dance.”

“Perfect, I know enough for the both of us. Too much, even,” he said, straightening up. He didn’t let go either. “What’s the point of all these adventures and whatnot if you don’t stop and smell the roses? Word of a Sayre: I swear I don’t bite.”

Smelling flowers and having to dance were not at all comparable in her book. But his hand felt so warm. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad to try something new.

“Alright,” she said, and Nick grinned.

He pulled her hand up, slipped his arm around her lower back, found a spot where her bow and bandolier didn’t get in the way. She, with a hand that was too shaky for something as simple as a dance, rested her free arm along his shoulder. 

He winked at her, took a step to the right, and then thrust her into a waltz.

It was a quick waltz, with a step Lirael had to stare down at her feet for. She felt slow and clumsy, Nick guiding her with a forceful hand on her back. One-two-three, one-two three…

She glanced up at Nick, who smiled at her in the way she would imagine the love interests smiling in those guilty pleasure books about swashbuckling heroines. She missed a step.

Nick immediately picked up on her mistake and turned her hesitation into a deliberate rock-step, then swept her up again into the dance.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” muttered Lirael, her gaze locked on her feet once more.

“Not a problem, Lady Necromancer,” said Nick. “What did I tell you? I know far too much about ballroom arts to ever be useful outside of Ancelstierre. And even inside Ancelstierre, all that ever happened was I impressed a few droll debutantes at political parties.”

She wondered how he could talk while dancing. She thought of all the pretty noble girls he must have spent time with. Did he look at all of them the way he looked at her?

Without any warning, he twirled her. She didn’t realize what he was doing until halfway through the spin, when she panicked and stumbled towards him. He caught her smoothly, even transforming the mistake into a brief dip, then resuming the basic step.

“Don’t do that,” said Lirael. “I said I wasn’t any good.”

“And I said I was good enough for the both of us. Relax. Let me do all the work for once, luv.” 

She didn’t dare look up at him, for fear of getting caught up in that peculiar smile again. Instead, she took a deep breath in-between her counts, and tried very hard to relax. She had been past the final Gate, she had sealed an ancient, ineffable power. She could learn to relax while dancing. It couldn’t be that difficult.

She was only partially successful. Her golden hand remained tense in his and she remained thoroughly nerve-wracked over the prospect of potentially missing a step. But by the end of the song, she almost started to have fun. Nick pulled her in for a final spin as the tune slowed, then gently pressed her into a slight dip.

Much to her dismay, she made eye contact with him. It was unavoidable. His face was so close, her hair was hanging so she could not hide herself, and he was using that smile she so feared. She thought he might kiss her. It was too much to bear. She turned her head away.

“We should go upstairs,” she said, trying to shake her hair over her face. “Before it gets too late.”

“Of course,” he said, and she couldn’t read his expression because she stupidly covered her eyes with her hair. He helped her back up, then escorted her off the dance floor. She felt something like regret, but fiercely ignored it.

They made their way up the stairs as the dance continued without them, as it would forever more. The glass door appeared to lead into a garden, lit by false moonlight.

Nicholas pushed the doors open. It was a simple garden, clearly meant only as a backdrop for the ballroom below. There were a few square hedges with peonies stuck in them lining the plain pavilion. Where the hedges ended, so did the “world,” an infinite blackness beyond where the spell ceased to exist. 

“There it is!” Nick pointed towards the stone birdbath at the end of the pavilion. The book was placed in the center of its dried up basin. He half-ran, half-skipped to it, then swiped it up to hold it in front of his face like he were examining a baby.

As soon as he touched it, Lirael became aware of the terrible mistake she made. She shouldn't have let Nick touch it. She shouldn’t have let a Free Magic sorcerer pick up the book, not one who wasn’t the Abhorsen, not a book that hadn’t been inspected for traps. A stupid, stupid mistake.

The music in the ballroom ceased. Silence pressed hard against their ears.

"Damn," whispered Nick, stuffing the book in his pack. “I shouldn’t have done that, right?”

Lirael shook her head. She drew her sword. Nick unsheathed his broadsword from behind his back.

As soon as he did so, the doors to the ballroom slammed open. All hundred or so pairs of Charter sendings amalgamated into a heap of marks, most of them related to various spells of offensive nature.

Lirael had her hand on Ranna, intending to send the individual Charter sendings to ‘sleep,’ but this engorged sending was far too big for that. She barely had time to trace a mark for protection before the sending cast a master mark for fire. 

Lirael’s shield broke instantaneously, and she was thrown back from the shockwave. Nick caught her, barely, with one arm. As she scrambled to get back up into a standing position, perhaps to draw Saraneth, she tasted the bile-like flavor of Free Magic. It reeked like old, rusted metal.

Nicholas’ eyes were jet black, with globs oozing down his cheeks as though they were overflowing with coagulated ink. When he opened his mouth, the same liquid came dribbling from his lips.

“I’ll nullify it,” said Nick, in a voice harsh and not-him and one that would scald his throat. “It’s easy. Really easy, no problem at all. I’m good enough for the both of us. Just relax.”

“No, Nick! You mustn’t!” Lirael yelled. “I can-”

He uttered words that made Lirael’s stomach churn. She felt him vanish, and the whole world turned black.

For a moment, Lirael thought she had lost her entire connection to the Charter. It came back in a split second. Lirael realized, with a sort of indescribable horror, Nick had severed the threads between anything in the area and the Charter in the span of a heartbeat. The light did not return. The garden did not return. Nick did not return. Lirael was alone in the dark, in a space which once held an elaborate illusion.

Lirael called for light, and a ball illuminated the nothingness around her. Lirael could find her way out easily enough-- the ballroom was a solid fixture and all she had to do was summon the marks for an exit. The problem lay in finding Nick.

If he was still himself.

“Nick?” said Lirael, her voice shy in the dark. Then, louder, “Nick?”

No answer. Lirael could not feel death, but she could feel no life either. She called out his name again, even louder. She took a few steps forward. She summoned another Charter light, and sent it out into the darkness, which seemed to go on forever. It vanished when it got too far away from Lirael.

Lirael’s imagination went to dark places. What if Nick was no longer himself? What if that was the Free Magic spell that pushed him over the edge, sent him away from the Charter? What if she had to use her bells on ‘him?’

“Nick!” she yelled. “Where are you?”

She was at the point of running off into the dark or doing something stupid when a light flickered in the corner of her vision. She turned towards it, then broke into a dead sprint across the plane of black.

Nick was there. No black eyes, no stench of Free Magic, no worse for wear. He was holding a Charter light in his hands. He grinned at her as she skidded to a stop in front of him, panting.

“Would you look at that?” he rasped, his throat so hoarse she could barely hear him. “I think I finally got this light thing down pat.”

She felt like attacking him and hugging him all at once. Relief and anger, mashed up into something she’d never quite experienced before. She raised her hand as though to slap him, decided better of it, and looking him straight in the eye said, “Don’t do that. Don’t do that ever again. Not when I’m here. I can take care of the both of us, you shouldn’t do dangerous things like that. That could kill you, or worse. I don’t want to have to send you to Death.”

Nick blinked at her, his expression flatlined. Her anger sated, she let her other emotion take over. She pulled him tight into a hug. He was warm. He smelled smoky, almost. 

He didn’t hug her back. Lirael thought he was repulsed by her until she realized he didn’t know how to make the Charter light float out of his hands and he was probably too sore to talk. Instead, his free hand tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. A tender apology.

She held his hand the entire way back. Through the black space, the empty ballroom, the cramped tunnel. Nick didn’t say a word.


	3. Chapter 3

She sent him to the hospital ward as soon as they got out. She spent the next couple hours worrying, despite her best efforts, alone in the guest room. The usually calming act of polishing her bells helped little, so she decided to wait with him until he recovered.

He was sitting in a rocking chair in the lounge of the hospital ward, dressed as he was hours ago and with his head inside the book they struggled to get.

“Lirael!” he said, waving at her, his voice still hoarse. It was a little sultry, less grand and booming. She felt a bit heated when he spoke, for some reason. “You won’t believe what’s in this book! I read the most fascinating hypothesis about how the cornea reacts to Charter signs! It’s an important first step to-”

“Are you supposed to be using your voice?” asked Lirael, approaching him. She folded her arms.

He stared down at his feet, bashful. “No. But it’s been hours and I felt perfectly fine from the instant the initial marks were cast.”

She spoke with the healers to double check. They confirmed he was fine, although they suggested he avoid any long conversations for fear of aggravating his throat once again. Lirael led him back to the guest room, a tricky task when his gaze was directed firmly at the pages for the entire walk.

Lirael made the decision to stay at the Glacier one more night. Partially for the safety, partially so Nick could finish reading. She stared at him across the table during dinner in the refractory. He flipped a page, that faint smile on his lips she came to recognize as the manifestation of the pure joy he received from learning.

“Nick,” said Lirael. “Aren’t you at all affected by what happened?”

He snapped his head up, stared at her with careful intent, then shut the book. “Me? Not really. Besides for the great shame of disappointing my Lady Necromancer. Are you?”

“Yes,” said Lirael, staring him down. “Haven’t we told you enough? Free Magic is only to be used as a last resort. When you cut off the Charter this afternoon, I was frightened you wouldn’t come back human.”

“But I’m not technically a human any longer.” He leaned towards her, over the table. He propped his chin up with both hands. “I am, with all the bells and whistles removed, a being of Free Magic. I suppose however you want to define the word ‘human’ factors into this, of course, but I’d like to think I’m a bit different compared to other Charter users.”

He set his hands down to lean towards her even more, returning her eye contact. “Free Magic feels right,” he continued. “The Charter feels, oh, I don’t know, ‘other.’ As though I am a ghost in its house. No, not even that, the plus-one of a ghost-guest in its house. Free Magic welcomes me, not even in a seductive, addictive way as is all the rage with the evil powers these days, but in a nice, kind way. Adding to that, it appears the only negative side effect I have ever received is that I acquire strep throat until someone with the right talents comes along to cure me. In other words, my Lady, you don’t have to worry about my relationship with Free Magic.”

That did not stop her from worrying. It might have made it worse.

He sat in bed that night, flipping the pages of his book. There was a domesticity in that, him leaning back against the headboard, waiting for her to join him. She liked that, liked that feeling he gave her, but she could barely admit it to herself.

He put the book away when she climbed in, and she turned the lights off with a snap of her fingers. They said their brief goodnights on opposite sides of the bed. If Nicholas noticed that Lirael didn’t put a barrier between them, he didn’t say anything.

She dreamt of him. He stood in the dark, alone. She tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned, it wasn’t him. It was a creature of Death, wearing Nick's face like a stretched out mask. When you looked too close at the creature, you could see the rot and grime behind its too-thin skin. It smiled with Nick’s face, a mockery of the soft way he always looked at her.

Lirael jolted awake, grabbing for her bells. She sat up with a gasp, clutching at her chest and only finding a nightshirt. She turned towards the sleeping form of Nicholas next to her. Heart pounding, dizzy from sleep, she couldn’t tell if it was him or the creature from her dream.

“Nick?” she said, voice quivering. “Nick, is that you?” 

"I'm here, luv," breathed Nick, as a knee-jerk reaction to waking up. He tossed his arm over her lap without opening his eyes. "Jus' a nightmare, I get 'em all the time-"

His hand was on her thigh. It felt human. “Can I make sure?”

He grunted in a way that implied sleepy consent, and she pressed her fingers to the mark on his forehead. The Charter, with a bit of Nicholas’ Free Magic, flowed through her like a warm river. She removed her hand then slid back into bed until she was laying flat on her back. Nicholas did not move his arm. It was draped over her waist.

She turned away from him, for fear of… She didn’t know what exactly, but the panic from the nightmare translated over into a different sort of nervousness. She couldn’t tell if it was him or her heating up.

After many minutes where she remained frozen under his arm, he moved closer to her. Much, much closer. She felt his chest press against her back. 

“Can I get my arm under you?” he asked, his voice half-asleep. “It would be infinitely more comfortable.”

Lirael was glad she didn’t have to reply, because there was no possible way she could have formed a coherent sentence. She shifted her head up, and he slipped his arm under her neck so she could use it as a pillow. 

She wanted to do a thousand things. Wanted to push him away out of fear of the unknown. Wanted to turn to him and take him fully. She couldn’t gather the courage to do either. She lay with her head against his arm and asked, “D-did you sleep with other girls like this?”

“That would be,” he said, sounding more awake. “Rather improper.”

She thought she might cross over into the First Gate from how fast her heart hammered. He pushed his whole body against her back, like he was fitting together pieces of a puzzle. She clutched the sheet tight.

"Hold on, I just had a thought," said Nick, his voice in a fully sentient, fully awake whisper. His hand tightened on her waist, she tried hard not to shiver. "Your people can see the future, I gathered? Now, let me know if I'm being untoward, but did they stick us in one bed because they Saw us... y'know...?"

He trailed off. Lirael's whole body froze up, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head where Nick rested his chin. Her chest, on the other hand, felt burning hot like she had drank a strong liquor.

"Is that why you were embarrassed? Because you knew that we would… Hmm. Well. I can’t say I don’t want- I mean- Uh- That's a bit voyeuristic, don't you think?" he continued. She didn’t know what he would do, and the tension was almost too much. She felt like lightning, electric, like all her nerves were on high alert. "They See our destiny, right? So when do they stop Seeing, and when do our choices become our own? It's an intriguing question." He let the sentence hang in the air. Lirael got the sense he was building up courage. With a whisper, he eventually said, "Say, for instance, did they See me do this?" 

She felt him shift. His cheek grazed hers, then ducked lower. He pressed his lips to her neck, on the side where her skin was taut.

It was probably only due to her intense Abhorsen training she was able to resist screaming. She had no idea something could feel _like that_. She didn’t know if it was good or painful or what. She felt like she was made of glass and he would shatter her.

He kissed her again, butterfly light, along her jawline. She trembled, found his hand on her waist and laced her fingers with his for something to hold onto. He was so warm, she felt like she could melt and break apart all at once.

Another kiss. The sensitive part of her throat. It made her whimper.

“Did they See how much you’d like that?” he whispered. She could feel his breath. “What about this?”

She was so overwhelmed with the feeling of his mouth on her collarbone, she didn’t notice his hand detach from hers and creep up her nightshirt until it was grazing the underside of her breast.

She bit her lip to stop herself from making a noise that would wake the whole Glacier. She arched her back, pressed into his chest, as an automatic response. His fingers slipped higher, rubbed against skin that nobody but herself had touched, and she was suddenly very familiar with the sort of warmth which spread from her inner thighs. Judging by what was pressing into her rear, he was feeling the same. Reality hit like a bucket of ice water. She was not ready for this, not in the least.

She pushed his hand down so he was forced to rest it on her waist.

"Lirael?" he said, gentle. "Lirael, should I stop?"

"Yes," stuttered Lirael.

Nicholas' hand began to tremble as he removed it from her nightshirt. "Oh, god," he said. "Oh, Lord, I'm so sorry, Lirael, I didn't mean to-"

"It's not that," she said. As overwhelming as it was, she was almost tempted to move his hand back. "I've just- I mean I- I've never even been kissed."

There was a beat of silence, then a too-loud, "You WHAT?"

He scooted away, then pulled her back by her shoulders until she was forced to roll onto her back. She could see him leaning over her in the moonlight, with eyes squinted and serious like he was in the middle of proving a hypothesis. She wondered if he could tell her face was redder than a rosebud.

"If this was a ploy by your so-called 'cousins' to get you a kiss..." he said, gripping her arms tight and warm. "You had best believe it damn well worked."

He leaned down to meet her. 

Lirael hadn’t daydreamed about what her first kiss would be like since she was eighteen. She gave up around then, resigning herself to never getting kissed or romantically loved for the rest of her life. But she was sure this surpassed any expectation she might have had left over.

She expected the feeling. The softness, the warmth, the way their lips met and moved. But she didn’t expect the swarm of butterflies, the fireworks, the sheer spark of life she felt while kissing Nicholas Sayre. She looped her arms around the back of his neck. His hair felt lovely under her fingers. All hers.

He wasn’t entirely on top of her, but she desperately wanted him to be. But when he eventually did move to straddle her between kisses, when he pushed his hands up under her nightshirt just to touch the bare skin on her waist, she panicked. Her head became light and her hands began to shake and she broke from him to say, “Just kissing. Please. I’m not ready.”

He looked down at her with such kindness she thought her heart might burst. “Of course. Anything you want.”

He rolled onto his back, pulling her with so she could lay on his front. She wasn’t expecting that and attempted to overcompensate for the motion by pushing towards him. They ended up bumping teeth.

Lirael covered her mouth. "I'm sorry, I've never done this before."

He laughed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Relax. Let me do all the work for once, luv."

She thought it a reasonable request. This was much easier than dancing, although not quite as easy as banishing undead. She couldn't help but smile into the next kiss. Nick drew back to look at her.

"I've abandoned my noble quest for knowledge," he said. "My new life goal is to witness that smile at every opportunity."

"Best of luck," said Lirael, impatiently pressing back down for more. He gladly reciprocated.

As with all things one does for too long, the initial excitement eventually wore off and they sunk into each other like two cats curling up together. She rested her head on his chest, he ran his fingers through her long hair. He had such beautiful hands, even in the dark. She could hear his heartbeat.

Her slow, sweet drift into sleep was interrupted by Nicholas.

“Although in all actuality I _am_ wondering about the logistics of the Sight,” he said. “First of all, did they See all that? Or did they see some possible destiny where we did more than kiss? That’s a tad awkward. I stand by my accusation that voyeurism: bad. Is there some alternate universe where we both acted on our young adult urges? Did they get a free peep sh-”

Lirael hit him with a pillow.


End file.
